Disclaimer: I do not claim to own these characters or storyline. This fic loosely follows some plot points of the show Breaking Bad and includes some of the characters. Holly and Walt Jr. do NOT exist in this fic (Zoey, my fictitious character, replaces Walt. Jr.).
"Zoey, where's that potato salad?" Her dad, Walt, called from the sliding glass door.
"Just a minute!" Zoey shouted. She gave the potato salad one final stir before grabbing the bowl and heading outside.
Zoey's Aunt Marie and mom, Skyler, were at the patio table drinking wine. Her Uncle Hank and dad were drinking beer while tending to the food on the grill.
"How's your senior year so far?" asked Aunt Marie as Zoey took a seat at the table.
"It's my last year, and I couldn't be more excited," She replied, sipping her ginger ale.
"I loved high school, honestly. Those were some of the happiest times of my life." Aunt Marie had the tendency to ask people questions with the intention of throwing her own opinions or experiences out there.
Zoey was an only child and lived with her parents in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Her dad was a chemistry teacher at her high school, and her mom stayed at home.
"Marie, don't bore her with your blast from the past stories," said Uncle Hank as he and Walt joined the girls at the table.
"I can't believe my little girl is a high school senior," Walt smiled fondly.
"Dad, you're embarrassing me," Zoey slouched down in her chair.
"Just yesterday your mother and I were on the way to the hospital to have you...and now, here you are." As Walt said this, Skyler began pouring tears.
"Skyler, what's wrong?" Marie reached across the table and grabbed her older sister's hand.
"Ask him," Skyler pointed to Walt, then went inside of the house.
Marie, Hank, and Zoey stared at Walt and waited for an explanation.
"I have cancer," He shrugged and drank his beer.
Everyone went inside the house to comfort Skyler and bombard Walt with questions. Zoey sat in an armchair, unable to process any thoughts that may have drifted through her head.
"How long have you known?" Marie asked, seated next to Skyler on the couch.
"Two months," Walt folded his arms and waited for the inevitable scolding from his sister-in-law.
"Jesus, Walt!" cried Marie.
"I only found out this morning," Skyler said quietly, looking down at the tan carpet.
Without warning, Zoey got up and ran off down the hallway to her bedroom. Once there, she slammed the door and screamed into a pillow.
"What kind?" Marie pressed, oblivious to Zoey's absence.
"Lung cancer," Walt raised his eyebrows.
"I'm gonna go check on her," Hank gestured to the hallway.
"Thank you Hank," Skyler weakly expressed her greatness.
Zoey was lying on her bed, face buried in her pillow. Her long jet-black hair sprawled out around her. She was startled by a knock at the door.
"Zoey, it's Uncle Hank."
"Come in if you want to," She said through her pillow.
Hank took a seat at the end of the bed, and Zoey sat up.
"I just wanted to check on you," He shot her a sympathetic look.
"Well, I'm glad you came and not Aunt Marie," She pulled her knees to her chest, "No offense."
"None taken," Hank laughed and Zoey smirked at him briefly.
"It's completely unexpected," She ran a hand through her pin-straight hair.
"Absolutely, it will be difficult for all of us to adjust to this," Hank sighed. Zoey found herself captivated by his hazel eyes.
"Your eyes are mesmerizing," She whispered.
"What?"
'Nothing," She quickly said, hopping off of her bead and opening the door. "Thanks for checking on me, but I'll be ok."
"Ok," Hank left Zoey's room and returned to the living room, where Marie and Skyler were now demanding that Walt seek treatment.
"You have to do chemo," Marie insisted.
"Let Walt make his own choice," Hank complained, settling into the chair where Zoey had sat earlier. Marie gave him a glare of annoyance.
"How is she?" Skyler asked him.
"Fine," He nodded reassuringly. Hank tuned out the heavy conversation around him and thought of what Zoey might have said that caused her to usher him out of the room. He could have sworn she had commented on his eyes, but there was no way to be sure.
"Hank?" Marie waved her hand in front of his face, "We're going home."
"Ok, baby," Hank snapped out of his daze. The pair said their goodbyes to Walt and Skyler.
On the car ride home, Marie blabbed about how Walt had the nerve to consider not undergoing chemotherapy. Luckily for Hank, many years of marriage to Marie had taught him selective hearing. All he could think about was Zoey, and how desperately he hoped she would indeed be "fine."
